Evelyn

Chapter 11 - Consent is Hot

Chapter Song: Photograph by Cody Fry

                                       Evelyn
I woke up to the smell of mint and the feeling of warm arms wrapped around me.

I slowly peeled my eyes open, adjusting to the light. Michael was laying with his arms around me, deep asleep. I can see his freckles so much clearer now than that time at the beach. I didn't realize he had so many then. It's like a star struck him in the face and left the most beautiful marks behind.

I thought I had freckles once, turns out my pores were just clogged.

Anyway.

His hair looks soft and I get the overwhelming desire to run my hands through his curls. Honestly, I just want to study his face for hours: The curve of his nose, the slight curl of his eyelashes, the freckles dusted across his cheeks.

All of it. I want to study all of it.

I want to make him smile too. I've seen him half smile before, yes, but never a full, broad smile. I want to see if he has dimples or not. I want to see if his head tilts back when he laughs or if he doubles over instead.

It's just hit me that I might accidentally get Michael sick. He's been with me since, I don't even know how long.

I tried to turn around and look for a clock, but Michael's arms tightened around me, silently urging me to stay.

I want to stay, I really do, but I'd feel bad if I gave him a fever too.

I tried to move again and he grumbled into my hair, "Stop moving. Go back to sleep."

"I don't want to get you sick," I whispered, wiggling out of his grasp. "You go back to sleep and I'll get up."

"You're not going to drop this, are you?" Michael sighed, defeated.

"You know me better than that, darling."

Huh.

Darling.

That was unexpected...I like it.

But what if he doesn't like it? He could hate the nickname, for all I know. I already call him Batman excessively, and he doesn't seem like he minds, but who knows.

I guess the nickname thing between the two of us isn't unusual. For him, it's Batman and darling, For me it's Ev and (maybe?) sweetheart. I feel like he's called me sweetheart, but, truthfully, I don't remember if what I'm thinking of was real or a fever dream.

And I did dream of a shark swimming in sand while chasing a garden gnome in a desert, so the fever dream option is entirely plausible.

I chance a glance at Michael because he's been silent. He's not saying a single thing and now I'm regretting even saying anything at all-

But he it seems he doesn't need to. He's staring at me with an expression that resembles the feeling of breathlessness.

And he's wearing the shadow of a smile.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Do you want something to eat?"

I want to push it, I really do, but now that he's said it I'm starving.

"Yeah, let's do it."

~~~

"I have bread."

"Do you mean toast?"

"No, Bread. My toaster broke. I have," Michael checked his fridge and pantry again. "Nothing. Nothing but bread, cheese, and three apples."